


Purely Scientific Curiosity

by MarshmarrowSans



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Confession of Love, Best Friends in Love, Demisexual Sans, Dom/sub, Ecto-Penis (Undertale), F/M, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Never had sex with a monster, One of yall drops the L-bomb in bed oops~, Other, Reader has a vagina, Reader isn't...... they're just a monster virgin, Sans is a virgin, Smut, Sub Sans, Virgin sans, You and Sans are dorks and you love each other sm, dom reader, reader uses gender neutral pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-06-12 01:43:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15328923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshmarrowSans/pseuds/MarshmarrowSans
Summary: You've never had sex with a monster, and you want to know what it's like.Your best friend, Sans, has never had sex at all.You don't have to be a mathematician to put two and two together.





	1. An Offer He Can't Refuse

**Author's Note:**

> Because god damn, do I love writing best friends being secretly in love with each other.

You were, like, ninety percent sure that you were not only about to get turned down cold, but also that you were about to make things extremely awkward in your friendship with Sans.  
  
The two of you were close.  There was no mistake about that.  You’d been friends for months.  You were BEST friends, without question or contest.  There wasn’t a time in your lives that you didn’t want to spend time with each other, and you talked to each other about everything, even your deepest issues, insecurities, secrets and fears.  
  
Two peas in a pod.  
  
It was, in fact, that close, close friendship that convinced you to at least make the offer that had been on your mind for weeks now.  
  
You were sure that your best friendship would survive, even if Sans had to tell you that he wasn’t interested in being the one to answer the question that had been stuck in your mind for so long:  
  
What is it like to have sex with a monster?  
  
Magic and sex sounded like a winning combination to you.  You didn’t even know what to expect.  You figured it varied, based on the monster.  Some probably needed more magical assistance than others.  
  
Like ones lacking the proper anatomy.  
  
Like skeletons.  
  
Like Sans.  
  
You liked to think that you weren’t awfully particular about which monster you had sex with, but something definitely drew you to skeleton monsters in particular.  You figured doing it with, say, Undyne or Alphys wouldn’t be too different from just doing it with human women, and besides, they were in a happy and exclusive relationship with each other.  There was Toriel, but the same issue arose there.  You suspected she had the same, basic, mammalian anatomy, even if you were sure she could find ways to shake it up a bit with her fire magic.  Actually, that didn’t sound too bad.  
  
It was just that you already knew Sans would find out all too quickly, and you could already imagine the friggin’ _mockery_ and _judgement_ in his eyes.  
  
You might’ve gone for Asgore, but just looking at the guy’s physical size, you were worried a cock to match might actually cause physical damage to you.  
  
There was Papyrus.  But if Sans was going to judge you for laying Toriel, he would absolutely _kill_ you for taking his little brother’s innocence.  And besides, you were pretty sure Papyrus wasn’t ready for sex, and he deserved better than for his first time to be with somebody who was pretty much just using him as an experiment.  An object of curiosity.  A toy.  
  
You would’ve liked to say that you mulled over this for awhile before even considering Sans, but you didn’t.  He was the first monster that came to mind when you asked yourself, “which monster should I bang to satisfy this curiosity?”  There were a number of reasons for this.  
  
First of all, he was so chilled out, you felt like he might be down for anything.  A big part of the dynamic between the two of you in your friendship was that you came up with all kinds of crazy shit, and he just kind of went along with anything and everything you said.  He was your yes man, your partner in everything.  Even if he had to sometimes pull you out of the trouble you created.  
  
He was also accessible.  You spent so much time together, he’d be your first pick for pretty much anything.  It wouldn’t be difficult at all to set up a night together with him.  
  
And then there was the fact that he was your best friend, and you felt certain that you both loved each other very much.  Not like _that_ , of course, but genuinely nonetheless.  This whole deal was called friends with benefits, right?  Well, the most logical thing to do would probably be to pick your _closest_ friend to be your friend with benefits.  
  
Except the benefits was only supposed to happen once.  
  
Probably.  
  
Unless it was scorching hot.  
  
Finally, as much as you hated to admit it, you found Sans pretty attractive.  You didn’t know why.  It was just a fact of your life now.  Oftentimes, when you were touching yourself—which you mostly just did because you were bored or trying to go to sleep—you’d start thinking about him, and it never took you long to climax after that.  It was simple cause and effect with no reason to fill in the space between.  A phenomenon.  A stimulus and response.  Sans was hot!  The jury was still out on _what_ made him hot.  He just was.  
  
You psyched yourself up.  You convinced yourself that it would be no big deal.  That the worst thing that would happen would be he said, “haha no what the fuck, buddy,” and you both let it go and went back to being friends, and he would probably tease you about it in the future.  
  
But it wouldn’t change your friendship.  He would think it was funny, not weird.  He would still care about you with all his soul, just like he did now.  
  
Despite all that, your hands still shook as you made your proposal to him over your burgers at Grillby’s.  
  
“…  I wanna know what it’s like to have sex with a monster.”  
  
“…  uh…  ‘kay.  that shouldn’t be too hard to find out.  plenty of monsters are curious about interspecies relations, too.  and you’re a gorgeous human.”  
  
“I’m glad you think so.  I figured you could show me.”  
  
He choked on his burger.  You should’ve seen that coming.  
  
“…  don’t pull my femur like that.”  
  
“I’m not.”  
  
He swallowed hard, forcing the food down, before looking at you, eyes watery and disbelieving.  
  
“…  you could ask any monster.  ANY monster.  and you choose the short, chubby skeleton.”  
  
You smiled at him and put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“I chose my best friend.”  
  
There was much more to your reasoning than that, but that was the most important thing.  This was something you wanted to do, something you wanted to find out and explore, with your best friend.  Someone you had a bond with, even if it wasn’t the typical, romantic bond one would expect for a sexual rendezvous.  
  
“…  i hate to ask.  but, like.  are you sure you’re even gonna be able to…”  He waved his hands vaguely.  You weren’t sure where he was going with this.  “…  get off?”  
  
You hadn’t been expecting _that_ , of all things, to be his concern.  You blinked in surprise.  
  
“…  Yes?  Why wouldn’t I?  If it’s because you don’t have a dick, there are plenty of other, more creative ways to do it, and I figured you could get your magic involved, and—”  
  
“n-no, no, it’s not any of that.  i mean…  look at me.”  He gestured to himself.  
  
“…  I’m looking?”  
  
“i’m unattractive.”  
  
You felt bad, but you also wanted to laugh.  So you laughed, but you felt bad about it.  
  
“What?  _That’s_ your hold-up about this?”  
  
“well yeah.  y’know i’d do anything for you.  and i mean…  i’ve never wanted sex before, let alone _done_ it.”  
  
Wait a minute.  Sans was a virgin?  
  
“but i can respect scientific curiosity.  i guess it might be kinda cool to try it once, just to see what it’s like.  like skydiving.  as long as it’s you, i’m okay with that.  but yeah.  for real.  are you sure you’re gonna be able to get—stay—turned on if it’s…”  He gestured vaguely to himself again.  “if it’s just this…?”  
  
You gave him a reassuring smile, shaking your head from side to side.  
  
“Sans.  You’re the most handsome monster I’ve ever seen.”  
  
He smiled, too, and turned a little blue under your gaze.  
  
“Heck, you’re the most handsome _person_ I’ve ever seen.  Humans included.”  
  
“you sure you’re not just sayin’ all that to get in my pants?”  
  
“Of course not!”  
  
“because.  y’know.  i already made it clear.  this product is in mint condition.  never-before-used.  never-been-opened and all that.  but it’s always open to ya without question.  even if it’s kinda like.  a mint condition trash bag that nobody in their right mind would pay money for.”  
  
“Sans!  You’re handsome!”  
  
He put a hand to his cheek, as if feeling its temperature, in disbelief of how blue with his excited magic it was.  
  
“heh.  well thanks.”  
  
You thought your nervous trembling would’ve died down by now, but it hadn’t.  Although now, it was more anxious and excited instead of nervous.  He hadn’t turned you down!  It sounded like he was AGREEING to this!  
  
…  You were so sure he was going to laugh and tell you “no way jose,” you actually didn’t know what to do now.  You hadn’t planned this far.  
  
“…  So…”  
  
“so…?”  
  
“Are we doing this…?”  
  
“now?”  
  
Your face flushed red.  You looked around you at the other patrons, confirming they were all minding their own business.  
  
“N-no!  Later!  Maybe in a few days…?”  
  
“good, i was gonna say, we probably shouldn’t do it right after burgs.  it wouldn’t be very sexy to fart on each other.  unless you’re into that freaky crap.”  
  
You buried your face in your hands.   “Sans.  You are the most embarrassing person I have ever met.”  
  
“and the sexiest.  according to you.”  
  
Damn it.  Somehow, he was still teasing you about it even though he AGREED to your offer!  
  
But when you lifted your face from your hands and looked him in the eyes, it was clear as day.  Anxiety.  Excitement.  Curiosity.  Anticipation.  Affection.  He was feeling that same cocktail of confusing feelings that you were.  
  
“…  So I’m gonna find out what it’s like to have sex with a monster,” you concluded.  
  
“and i’m gonna find out what it’s like to have sex with a human, i guess.  and at all.”  
  
“…  And you’re sure you’re okay with that?”  
  
Sans grinned and shrugged, trying and failing to act just as non-chalant as ever.  
  
“’course.  why wouldn’t i be?”  
  
“…  It’s your first time…”  You twiddled your thumbs.  “And we’re not a couple.  And it won’t make us a couple.”  
  
You were certain of that.  
  
“… ‘sfine.  you heard what i said.  i’ve never really wanted—had an urge for—y’know.  and if it’s not something i ever, uh, craved, then that means it’s not really a big deal to me.  right?”  
  
You supposed that made sense.  
  
“and it’s like.  even if it’s not something that’s super important to me, it’s still something i feel like it could make me nervous or uncomfortable.  i have no idea.  i’ve never even really thought about it.  so if i’m gonna do it with someone, it should really be you.  you make everything pleasant.”  
  
“…  Sans?”  
  
“yeah?”  
  
“That was adorable.”  
  
“ _you’re_ adorable.”  
  
You took a deep breath in, and on your exhale, set the time and date for the fated event:  
  
“Saturday.  Nine at night.  My place.”  
  
“you got it.  don’t clean the house for me.  i’m sure i’ll be able to get my nut off just the same whether you’ve got shit lying around on the floor or not.”  
  
“Saaans!”  
  
“what?  you know it’s true.”  
  
Aaah.  This really was going to be a special night, wasn’t it?  It wasn’t just going to be a night of sex with a monster.  
  
It was going to be a night of sex with _Sans_.  
  
And that was a whole monster of its own.


	2. Sleeping With A Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent 7 hours of an 8 hour drive writing this chapter
> 
> On that note, I'll be pretty busy for the next few days and won't be much in the mood to write.
> 
> So see you all later!
> 
> After Comic Connnnnnnnn~!

Arranging to meet up at nine at night was a mistake.  You couldn’t focus on anything else, all day long.  
  
A million micro-scenarios played out in your head, good and bad, though you tried to focus on the good.  The constructive.  The what-to-do-to-make-him-enjoy-this.  The how-to-do-it-right.  
  
That was how you spent your morning.  As the day went on, the daydreaming still continued, but you began to prepare for the actual event.  Sans said not to clean your house for him, but you tidied up just a little anyways, out of habitual shame.  You took a shower, and gave your private bits a thorough washing, even though you were pretty sure you read somewhere once that you weren’t supposed to use soap on the area.  You agonized over what to wear for him—  
  
Your heart skipped a beat at your mental phrasing.  For him.  God, when had you ever dressed yourself for someone?  You usually didn’t care this much.  It was whatever—it was just coming off soon enough anyways, right?  
  
But you couldn’t help but care now.  
  
What would make Sans smile?  
  
First things first: you decided on your bra and panty set.  They had to match, you decided.  You wanted an _aesthetic_ going on here.  But you also didn’t want to go for anything too typically sexy.  Not the brazen, lacy, bright red bra and panty set you would usually default to for a night of planned boning.  No—that didn’t speak to you.  That didn’t strike you as distinctly Sansy.  You wanted something _distinctly Sansy_.  
  
The teal boyshorts with burgers printed on them seemed kind of cute and silly.  So did the orange ones that said “Eat.  Sleep.  Repeat.” over and over again.  
  
But then you found something perfect.  Something, Sans might never believe you if you told him, you got way before you even met him, for a Halloween party.  
  
At the back of your dresser drawer, you found a simple black pair of panties, with printed skeleton hands gripping the wearer’s ass on the back.  
  
Oh, he was going to _love_ that.  
  
You slipped them on, and accompanied it with a simple black bra to match.  
  
Next, you had to decide whether you were going to put anything over it, or answer the door in just your bra in undies like a total sexy minx.  Like something out of a movie!...  or porno.  Come to think of it, you’d never actually seen a porno use a trope as cliché as that.  And that meant it was REALLY cliché, so you probably shouldn’t do it.  Besides.  What if there were other people nearby who saw you answer the door like that?  At least for right now, you thought to yourself as you looked in your mirror, this view was for one man and one man only.  
  
You were still half-naked when that man knocked on your front door.  He knocked to the rhythm of shave-and-a-haircut, so you knew it was him—he always did that, every time in his long history of coming over to visit you.  
  
Shit, shit, shit!  He was here already?!  But you hadn’t made your hair all pretty!  Didn’t freshen up your deodorant, or put on any makeup, and—you honestly couldn’t remember, did you put on a light spritz of that perfume or not?  
  
You didn’t even go to the bathroom!  What if you had to pee while he was balls deep inside you?  
  
Alright.  Calm down, man.  Calm down.  He might not even have the equipment to _go_ balls deep.  
  
You got this.  
  
Except halfway to the door, you realized you were still in just your bra and panties, and had to rush back to your room, shouting out “I’LL BE THERE IN A MINUTE!” to your guest waiting outside.  Shit, you didn’t even think about what to wear _over_ this stuff!  
  
You pulled open your top drawer.  More bras and panties.  Fuck.  Second drawer.  A tank top.  Okay, that’d work.  Skip over the third drawer, because you know your pants are in the fourth.  Ooh, yes, a skirt.  Nice.  Aesthetically pleasing and easy to remove.  Perfect.  
  
You slipped them on, fixed your hair in the mirror, and told yourself one last time: alright.  It’s time.  Sexy, kinky, experimental minx mode.  Activate.  
  
You wondered if Sans would still want to have sex with you if he could hear your dorky-ass thoughts.  
  
As you went to open the door, you felt…  different from how you were pretty sure you were supposed to be feeling.  This was supposed to be about experimenting.  About showing him new things and being shown new things in return.  It was supposed to be lowkey, low-pressure, just a private romp with a close friend.  So why did you feel like you were on a first date?  
  
Why did you feel such a desperate need to _impress_ him, above all else, even your own exploration and pleasure?  
  
You decided it must be because he’d seemed so lukewarm on the idea of sex, you wanted to be a pal and show him how great it could be.  
  
It didn’t help that first-date feeling, though, when Sans showed up at your door with a single, blue-dyed rose in his hands.  
  
You didn’t actually see Papyrus, but you definitely heard his voice call out, “GOOD LUCK, BROTHER!” and then the screeching of tires, nearby at first, then fading into the distance.  
  
“heya.”  
  
“…  Hi.”  You glanced down at the rose nervously, then back up at his face.  This was a little more than you’d been expecting.  But at least he was still wearing his same old clothes, and not some embarrassing suit or dress shirt or something.  “…  Um.  I have several questions.”  
  
“shoot.”  
  
“First.  Um.”  You frowned and pointed vaguely out in the direction of the street.  “You had _Papyrus_ drive you over for this?”  
  
“yeah.  sports cars are sexy, right?  i thought you might lock your door if you saw me pull up on my tricycle.  and i can’t drive.”  
  
“You could’ve teleported.”  
  
“ooh.  bending time and space.  utilizing the ethereal void.  doesn’t that just get your juices flowing?”  
  
“Well…?”  Yeah, kind of.  “Okay.  Next question.  You told him?”  
  
“what?  are you crazy?  the image of me banging someone is an image i don’t wanna plant in _anyone’s_ head.  except, uh, yours, apparently, ya weirdo.”  He nudged you playfully with his elbow.  
  
But you weren’t letting him off the hook that easy!  “Then what the hell was _good luck, brother_ supposed to mean?”  
  
“oh.  that.  well, i told him i was just coming over to hang out with you like always, but i think he saw the rose and assumed things.  i think he thinks we’re on a date.”  
  
“We’re not.”  
  
“i know.”  
  
“So then…  that was my next question.”  You smiled a little, reaching out to touch the petals.  “What’s with the flower?  You got a romantic streak I don’t know about?”  
  
“nah.  isn’t it obvious?”  He got on one knee and presented the flower to you, which kind of seemed to go against his denial of having a romantic streak, until he explained, “the time has come.  deflower me.”  
  
His joke caught you so off-guard, you snorted completely involuntarily.  “Okay.  Seriously, Sans?  You went out.  Bought a flower.  Made your brother think we’re on a date.  All just to—”  You threw your arms up and let them drop to your sides in exasperation.  “Well what are we gonna tell him afterwards?  The date didn’t work out?  We aren’t right for each other?  We realized that our laziness, combined, would accelerate the ever-increasing entropy and therefore heat death of the universe, and we ended it for the good of everyone?  What a buzzkill.”  
  
“nah, don’t worry ‘bout it.  i’ll just explain the joke to him.”  
  
You put your hands on your hips, raising an eyebrow.  “No you fucking won’t.”  
  
“…  huh.  how ‘bout we worry about that later?”  
  
You smirked, and instead of keeping your hands on your hips, you reached out and placed them on his.  He took a dazed step towards you, as if immediately hypnotized by your touch.  
  
“Sans Gaster,” you told him under your breath, “you really do have a knack for making my life more complicated.”  
  
“right back atcha, pal.”  
  
You started to lean in.  Stopped.  Got too nervous.  Saw him start to lean in, too, but stop when he saw you stop.  Giggled at that.    
  
“Still can’t believe you had your innocent peach of a little brother drive you over to have sex with me.”  
  
“woulda been more suspicious if i snuck out alone, don’tcha think?  once he realized i wasn’t at grillby’s, i mean.”  
  
“…  Fair point.”  
  
You couldn’t stand here at the door stalling by talking to each other forever.  That became obvious as the silence fell, and extended for several seconds on end.  He had his head tilted slightly down from where he usually had it tilted to look up and talk to you, eye lights touching the tops of his eye sockets, looking kind of shy.  
  
You bit your lip, and held out your hand to him.  
  
He took it in his with neither an awkward nor a suave word and let you guide him along the long-familiar route to your bedroom.  
  
“Will it hurt your feelings if I rip the petals off that rose and throw them on the bed?”  
  
“nah.  i told you to deflower me.  go ahead.  friggin’ _demolish_ my flower.  wipe my flower out of existence.”  
  
Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.  Rose petals on the bed were kind of extra, anyways.  You and Sans weren’t the type to go for that—you were people of simple pleasures.  Food, naps, anime, and each other.  So you left it on your nightstand and made a mental note to put it in a vase later.  
  
All of your imaginary paths of action from earlier were suddenly lost to you.  A whole day of do-this, do-that went down the drain the moment you had Sans’ hand in yours and saw that demure look on his face.  He was right about one thing for sure: you wanted to absolutely _demolish_ his flower.  He could probably tell by the way you sat on the edge of your bed, spread your legs, and pulled him in by the hips to stand between them.  
  
Neither of you hesitated this time.  He put his hands on your cheeks, both of you leaned in towards each other at the same time, tilted your heads right, and kissed like lovers who had been waiting for each other for a thousand years.  
  
That awkward aborted kiss at the front door felt like it was from another world.  It was hard to believe that the two of you, who now could kiss so passionately, could have also screwed it up so hilariously.  You were a little surprised that Sans was as into it as he was.  He didn’t have lips, per se, only a small ridge bordering the top and bottom of his teeth, made of the same smooth, soft stuff that formed his round cheeks.  All of the actual kissing activity was on you—the best he could do was to lean into you and rub that soft part of his mouth against yours.  You weren’t sure he would get much out of it.  
  
But by the enthusiasm he was putting into it, by the hot breaths pouring over your skin and the gradual sinking of his body up against yours, you could guess it was a lot.  
  
Every cell in your body felt electrified, and you weren’t sure if that was from pure arousal, or from being in such close proximity to his magic.  You’d never been in such close contact with a monster, especially one whose magic was in such an excited state—you knew it was, because you’d read once in your long-running, uh, _research_ about this, that a lot of monsters, like Sans, didn’t need to breathe for oxygen, but instead as a way of ventilating excess heat from the magic supplying their body.  
  
So the more his magic worked itself up in preparation for you, the more heat he had to shed, and the warmer his breath was.  
  
And his breath was _very_ warm already, like the steam that spouted upwards when you poured yourself a cup of tea or coffee.  Most of it cascaded down from his nasal cavity, but you felt some thin streams of air escaping between his teeth, too.  Having been focusing your attention and the gentle sucking of your lips on the soft, lip-like ridges for awhile now, you took a moment to kiss him directly on the teeth.  
  
You knew for sure that didn’t cause any physical sensation for him.  Who the hell has physical sensation on the surface of their teeth?  That would just be weird.  But he chuckled anyways, his eyes blinking open again for the first time since the kissing began.  
  
“wow.”  
  
“That’s not sex yet.”  
  
“i know.  but still.  _wow_.”  
  
You smiled up at him coyly.  “If you thought that was _wow_ , then honey, you’ve got a big storm comin’.”  
  
“i love it when you meme at me.”  
  
He tackled you on to the bed, so suddenly considering his goofy words that it made you burst out laughing both at what he’d said and at the absurdity of the situation.  For a short moment, he was on top of you, but you rolled with the force of him throwing himself at you and ended up on top of him instead.  He took in a breath to say something, probably as dumb as the last thing he’d said, so you quickly kissed him again to shut him up.  His only vocalization then was a soft moan that made his teeth hum against your lips.  
  
Ooh.  _Damn_.  Something about that deep, smooth, soft tone was music to your ears, and it sent a hot, desperate aching straight between your legs.  If there was a special pitch that could arouse anyone upon hearing it—a pink note, if you will—Sans just hit it using nothing but his natural voice.  You didn’t have to reach into your panties to know that you were wet as hell for him right now.  
  
You must have started kissing him harder without thinking about it, or given him some other subtle sign he was extraordinarily good at reading, because he moaned again, softer and much more drawn-out than the first time, and clumsily put a hand on your ass to pull your hips closer.  
  
You smirked against his mouth, imagining how much he would laugh if he knew how perfectly he was imitating your underwear right now.  
  
…  Oh.  Oh, right!  You had to get naked at some point.  You weren’t sure what your plan was other than that.  You guessed you just felt like you could lie there on top of him kissing him and listening to his beautiful, needy moans forever.  
  
He recognized the need for a change of pace, almost like the two of you were thinking and moving as one, on the exact same brainwave.  “how weird do you want this to get?” he whispered to you.  
  
“Might be the only time I lay a monster,” you mumbled back.  “So we’d better make it count.  Make it freaky.”  
  
“with my magic?”  
  
“With your magic.  As much as possible.”  
  
“ok.”  
  
It must have been something he was keeping in mind for later, because he didn’t immediately act on your suggestion.  Instead, he smiled up at you, hands on your thighs under your skirt, eyes half-lidded, dazed with sexual joy.  You would recognize that look on anyone.  
  
So he _did_ get sexual gratification out of kissing you.  Good to know.  
  
You couldn’t look away, and neither could he.  The two of you stared at each other without a single glance away, even as you peeled your shirt from your body like wrapping off a present and left so much more of your skin bare to him than you’d ever dared to let him see before.  Utterly fascinated, he withdrew his hands from under your skirt to trail them over the soft flesh of your stomach.  It rose and fell ever so slightly in time with your breaths, giving it a sort of kinetic, living quality that other parts of your body didn’t so obviously have.  Your chest had that same quality, to an even greater extent.  Once he’d taken in your waist and belly button, his hands trailed over the mounds of your breasts, even as they were still covered by your bra.  
  
“best.  pillows.  _ever_ ,” he remarked reverently.  
  
He'd fallen asleep on them, many times, no matter how much you joked that he was a perv for doing so.  Like you were about to do again.  
  
“Perv.”  
  
“i know you are, but what am i?”  
  
“You’re so _fucked_.”  
  
You leaned down and kissed him again, and as your lips crashed so smoothly and sweetly against his teeth again, he gave your breasts a curious squeeze.  You kissed him and kissed him, mouth nose and cheeks, as he fumbled helplessly at your bra, wanting desperately to remove it but clearly having no idea how.  He kept tugging on the part between your breasts adorned with a tiny bow.  He tried pushing it up like a shirt.  Pulling it down like a pair of pants.  Eventually, you had pity on him.  
  
“Sans.  Watch.”  
  
“phew.  okay.”  
  
You demonstrated, with hypnotizing grace, how to properly remove the article, by reaching back behind you, unclasping the back, and shimmying the straps down your arms before throwing it completely aside.  
  
“oh.  on the _back_.  well how was i supposed to know?”  
  
You laughed, gentle and understanding.  “You weren’t. I just like to watch you flounder.”  
  
“you’re so mean.”  
  
“You know you love it.”  
  
He let out a long sigh that made his shoulders droop, like pressure being released from his tense body, as his hands returned to your now-bare chest.  “yeah.  i know i do.”  
  
“Mmm…” You let out a soft noise, from the sensation of being touched so intimately, of course, but also to repay him for being so up-front about his own physical pleasure.  And you weren’t sure whether it had been the case all along, or occurred gradually over time, or had really only happened just now, but when you looked at him again, his cheeks were noticeably blue.  
  
“ _damn_ , baby,” he breathed.  
  
He didn’t touch you like any human you’d ever been with, didn’t grab handfuls of your breasts and squeeze, or try to pinch or rub your nipples.  He made broad strokes with his hands, as if over a canvas, or appreciating the texture of a soft new blanket.  
  
“is that okay?” he asked you, surprisingly softly and anxiously.  
  
“Dude.  We’re about to full-on fuck.  You can touch my boobs.”  
  
“huh?  oh, uhuh, thanks,” he let out one of the dorkiest chuckles you’d ever heard.  “but, uh, i meant, uh… nevermind.”  
  
You blinked at him, so confused you didn’t even process the comedy of the fact that he still had two metric handfuls of titty at the moment, even as he talked to you.  “What?”  
  
“…  is it okay to call you baby, and… stuff like that?”  
  
Honestly, it rolled off the tongue so naturally, you hadn’t even noticed he’d said it, let alone that it was the first time he’d called you something like that, and that it might be weird, considering the circumstances.  You noticed it now, but…  it still didn’t really bother you.  
  
In fact, it was kinda hot.  
  
“Yes, Sans.  That’s absolutely fine.”  
  
“ah.  good.”  
  
Something about his expression told you he immediately wanted to call you that again.  Before you forgot, though…  you had to show him.  
  
“Hey, let go of my boobs for a sec.  I wanted to show you something.”  
  
“oh.  okay.”  
  
Obediently, he kept his hands to himself, and didn’t even put up a fuss when you climbed off of him and stood by the side of the bed.  He kept silent, but leaned towards you a little in keen interest and let his eye sockets widen a little at the sight of you sliding your skirt over your hips, down your thighs, all the way to your ankles, until you stepped out of them.  He didn’t see your surprise for him quite yet, but he _did_ see something he liked.  His eye lights panned from your hips all the way to your feet, then snapped back up to your thighs and stayed there, flicking slightly back and forth.  
  
“Wait for it…” you announced, “and…  boom!”  You turned around so he could see the skeleton hands on the back.  
  
And he burst out laughing like he’d only ever done when you cracked the _best_ of puns at him.  He laughed until it lapsed into a high-pitched giggle you’d never heard before.  
  
“heheh!  heh- _heehee_!  ahhh, that’s awesome.”  He sat up and scooted over so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, like you’d been doing when you were just getting started.  “c’mere, babe.”  
  
Oof.  You noticed _that_ time.  But it struck you not like a stale note in a symphony, but like a part of a song that sent chills down your spine the first time you heard it, and you just wanted to replay it over and over again…  
  
You turned back around to face him and, hands on his shoulders, nestled your body up against his.  With you standing and him sitting on the bed, you fit together perfectly for him to nuzzle his head against your chest, and as he did, he reached around and placed his hands directly over the design on the back of your panties.  
  
“you didn’t buy these just for tonight, didja?”  
  
“Nope.  Had ‘em for years, believe it or not.”  
  
“nice.  then this must be destiny.”  He squeezed your buns a bit more firmly than you were expecting, making your body jerk and _almost_ earning a squeak from you, mostly out of pure surprise.  “i’ve been grabbing your ass since before i ever met you.”  
  
“Awwwh.  That is so sweet, Sans.  Even though I’ve never believed in destiny, I think I do now.”  You smirked, and reached back to put your hands over his.  “…  But as cute as they are.  They’ve gotta go.”  
  
“awwwh.  can’t you let me soak in this moment just a little longer?  my best friend wants to bang me so badly they’ve got it written all over their panties.”  
  
“C’mon, Sans, I want to show you something _else_ now.”  You removed his hands from your ass cheeks and repositioned them, at first to the waistband, then with just the tips of his fingers slipped under it.  
  
“…  if you’ve got some kinda skeleton-related tattoo on your hoo-ha, i will actually drop dead on the spot.”  
  
“Then you’ll live to see another day.  Please, dude, just get me naked already.”  _That_ was something you’d never had to say to a sexual partner before.  People didn’t usually dilly-dally like Sans was doing.  
  
Not that you weren’t enjoying every moment of it.  
  
It took him a moment, but Sans got around to slipping your panties off.  You could tell he wanted to stop and take in the view, though.  His eye lights were suddenly glued to that last, and by far most intimate, part of your anatomy that had just been revealed to him.  You didn’t think it was much to look at, especially without being spread apart with your fingers, but he seemed transfixed nonetheless.  
  
Good.  That was where you wanted him to be looking right now.  
  
“Okay.  Crash course.  Just so you know,” you explained, before propping your foot up on the bed by his side and spreading your folds with your fingers.  “First: vagina.”  
  
His eye lights didn’t even flicker anymore.  They stayed fixed to one spot, like he’d spaced out.  “ _damn_.”  
  
“Are you paying attention?”  
  
“yeah.”  
  
“Vagina,” you repeated, identifying the relevant anatomy by slipping the tips of your index and middle finger into it.  It wasn’t enough to derive much pleasure out of, but you were surprised by how wet you are.  Your body was ready to _go_.  And you would let it, just as soon as you’d helped Sans get his bearings.  “Human men stimulate it with their penis by pumping it in and out.”  
  
“i mean.  i knew _that_.  i know how animals fuck, including humans.”  
  
You grinned and shrugged, not even realizing how much you were adopting his mannerisms.  You two spent way too much time together.  “Can’t be too thorough.  Moving on then.”  You removed your fingers from yourself and moved them around to point at your _other_ hole.  “This is called the _wrong_ hole.  This is where poop comes out.”  
  
Sans, the immature manchild he was, snickered at that.  
  
“Don’t use.  Don’t touch.  Unless I start feeling really kinky and specifically tell you to.”  
  
“got it.”  
  
“And finally…” You used his hand this time, guiding his fingers so that they were holding your lips apart—dear god, if he blushed any harder he might just turn into a giant blueberry like Violet Beauregarde in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory— and then pressing his thumb to your clit, “Feel that hard little button thing there?”  
  
“i-i think so.”  
  
“Clitoris.  Or clit.  Super important.  It’s basically my little pleasure button.  This is the one pretty much surefire way to get me off.  Whatever way we’re doing this, you should be rubbing _something_ up against this.”  
  
“okay.”  He moved his thumb in a slow, smooth, experimental circle.  “like that?”  
  
“Well, yeah, but…” you guided his hand to rest on your thigh, only passingly aware of how coated with your own wet his fingers were.  “I think it’s _your_ turn to give me a few little hints about how to make you happy.”  
  
“oh.  oh, well…”  For the first time in awhile, he glanced away from you.  “i actually don’t really know…”  
  
You tilted your head at him.  “You don’t know?”  
  
“this is all really new to me.  like _really_ new.  more than i think you know.  so i don’t…  i’ve never gone and tried to… find out what i like.  even with myself.”  
  
“…  Get outta town, you funky little skeleton.”  You nudged his shoulder with your fist.  “You don’t even masturbate?”  You couldn’t say you’d ever consciously _thought_ about it, but at this point you just kind of assumed _everybody_ masturbated.  
  
“…  no?  i didn’t think i’d like it.  well, i—”  He started to say something, but stopped himself.  “no.”  
  
Your eyebrows raised, though you managed to keep your expression otherwise neutral, even as your excitement mounted.  “You were about to say something.”  
  
“i can’t.”  
  
You started to straddle his lap, a stern yet somehow playful frown making its way on to your face.  He dropped an F-bomb in a low whisper, and you could only guess as to whether it was in pleasure from being straddled by a naked babe or in frustration with himself for letting something slip out that he didn’t mean to say.

  
“Friends don’t keep secrets from each other, Sansy,” you told him, voice saccharine-sweet.   “So you’d better tell me.  Otherwise I might have to get not-so-friendly with you.”  
  
“what are you gonna do?”  He quirked a brow bone at you.  “fuck it outta me?”  
  
You managed to wrap your hand around one of his ribs, even through his shirt.  “I might.”  
  
“i’d like to see you tryyy _yyy—heyyy_ ,” he trailed off into a whine as you reached around, slipped your hand down the back of his pants, and trailed your fingers over his sacrum.   “n-no fair.  how’d you know to do that?”  
  
“Unlike you,” you abandoned your ministrations for a moment to start pushing his beloved blue hoodie off over his shoulders, “I did my research.  In the human body, the neurons that innervate the genitals are towards the base of the spine.  And I extrapolated from there.”  
  
“god damn,” whispered your flustered little skeleton friend, “you’re _too_ sexy when you talk science to me.”  
  
And you thought it was a confidence boost to hear Sans call you gorgeous the other day.  Hearing him call you sexy, especially after just reiterating his previous distaste for sex, just about knocked you dead.  You showed him how much you appreciated it by ripping his plain white tank top off over his head, leaning down, and kissing from the arm side of his right clavicle to the sternum side.  He shivered under the fluttering, butterfly-like touch of your lips, and you felt skeletal fingers work their way into your hair, heard little mumbles and moans made up of indistinguishable words as if they were emanating straight from his chest and into your ears, as you continued on to the other clavicle, sternum side to arm side.  
  
And then you felt something straining through the fabric of his shorts, directly underneath your exposed pussy.  
  
You knew that Sans presented himself as a male, and you knew that he was turned on, and you knew that you should be ready for his magic to be able to do just about anything.  
  
But, funny enough considering how relatively tame it was compared to some of the things _you’d_ been imagining, the magical boner took you completely by surprise.  
  
You pulled away and looked at him, then down between your legs.  It was glowing bright, sapphire blue.  That was a complete, legitimate, magic dick, right there.  
  
“too much?”  Sans nervously inched his hips back so it wasn’t practically trying to enter you through his shorts, but you scooted with him.  
  
“No way.”  You smiled at him, took in his anxious, almost helpless face, and all you wanted to do was kiss him again.  This time, you did it on the vertebrae of his neck, and whispered to him, “It’s perfect.”  
  
“ah.  good.  i like yours, too.”  
  
You were in the perfect position now to lie him back on the bed, remove his shorts and get a good look at what he was giving you to work with, so you did.  He surrendered to your every move, went slack except when you moved a part of him this way or that, and yielded to what your every touch told him without words to do.  In a matter of seconds, he was as naked as you were, and it was your turn to gaze in awe at his unfamiliar and spectacular anatomy.  
  
The shape of his ecto-cock wasn’t quite like that of any human’s you’d ever seen, in porn or in person.  It was pretty much what you’d expect a person who had never seen a penis before to think a penis would look like.  A vague, swollen phallic shape.  Anatomically inaccurate if the standard was a human penis, but more than able to get the job done.  Besides, you weren’t here to have an imitation human-fucking experience.  You were here for the complete _opposite_ of that.  So it made you happy to see something you’d never seen before.  
  
In terms of dimensions, it was a real chode.  Not very long, but thick enough that the needy ache between your legs became almost painful in its urgency at the thought of it filling you.  It was stiff as hell, too, poking up so straight it was almost looking you in the eyes.  You weren’t sure whether it got that way through arousal or he’d just made it that way, by default, for the purpose of pleasuring you.  
  
Well, it didn’t matter.  It was just begging for you to ride to hell on it.  And you were aching to ride it.  
  
As you positioned yourself over it, you placed your hands on the thick, sturdy bones of his ribs, and with that joy-dazed look returning to his eyes, he put his hands on your thighs.  
  
“You ready, cutie?”  
  
As much as he’d seemed to enjoy using little pet names for you, he clearly hadn’t been expecting you to use one back.  His smile grew.  His eye sockets got a little wider.  His magic, once again, took you by pleasant surprise, by forming his formerly perfectly round pupils into large, dilated heart shapes.  
  
Huh.  Who would’ve guessed Sans liked being called cute so damn much?  
  
“i am _so_ ready for this.”  
  
Both of you sucked in a breath, at the same time, at the mutual sensation of you lowering yourself on to his erection and not stopping until you were sitting flush against his femurs with him inside you.  You were pretty sure he did so out of delighted surprise at how good it felt to stick that part of him into somewhere so hot, wet, and tight.  As for you, it burned a little to be stretched that wide—yes, you’d had sex before, but not with someone so girthy—but you soon had trouble distinguishing that subtle burning feeling from the softly buzzing, almost crackling sensation of his magic.  
  
It didn’t feel like flesh at all.  It was much more slippery and smooth, it was pleasantly hot like his breath, and it reacted with your skin almost like pop rocks.  
  
His hands slipped up to your hips, and he asked you in a voice as gentle as his touch, “you okay?”  
  
As strange as all these foreign sensations were to you, you still smiled down at him, sitting still on the magical appendage inside you, and rubbed your thumb over his cheek.  “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”  
  
“i feel amazing.”  The hearts still hadn’t faded from his pupils.  You hoped they couldn’t get stuck like that, because you’d made it your personal goal to keep them that way for the rest of the night.  “keep goin’.  whenever you’re ready.”  
  
You gently bobbed your hips forward and back a couple of times to get a feel for it.  Mmm…  it was big, but it glided in and out of you so easily, stretched you like you’d never been stretched before with so much ease and so little pain.  You’d never felt so totally _full_ from a sexual partner before.  
  
The feeling was, pun intended or not, absolutely magical.  
  
Sans was enjoying it, too.  Even as you rocked your hips at a strength and pace that would probably make a more experienced partner slap your ass and tell you to get a move on, you could see his face scrunch up a little and begin to sweat, hear the first of undoubtedly a barrage of pleasured moans building up in his chest and just waiting, _begging_ to have a reason to spill out.  
  
You gave him a reason.   Feeling adjusted to his size and the feeling of his magic on your skin, you braced yourself on his sturdy chest and you let your hips begin to fall into the smooth, steady, rolling motion you did best.  
  
He didn’t make you wait.  Didn’t make you work for it.  His voice, like the rest of his body, was all yours right now.  He didn’t hold back a thing, not the noises that bubbled up naturally from his chest, nor the words that spilled out without thinking:  
  
“damn, baby, _yes_!”  
  
“fuck, gorgeous, what are you _doin’_ to me…?”  
  
“ooh—!  that.  that felt _really good_.  do that again.”  
  
“ _harder_.  i can take it.”   
  
“oh, that feels so good, keep going, _keep going_ , _please_.”  
  
You hadn’t expected soft-spoken, oft-aloof _Sans_ of all people to be so vocal in bed, to moan and groan and sigh and beg for it like such a needy little whore, but you weren’t complaining.  
  
You knew, from the first noise he’d made that night, that you had a thing for this man in particular vocalizing his pleasure in that deep, rich, hot-fudge voice of his.  
  
You weren’t much of a silent lover, yourself, especially once your partner showed that he wasn’t shy about letting you know how good you were doing.  Once you found that perfect rhythm and angle with your hips, the one that had him going wild underneath you and sent little shockwaves of pleasure through your own body, you were able to keep it without much constant thought.  
  
But between the mutual panting, moaning, and praises, you still had a question.  
  
“I said…”  you gritted your teeth and thrusted him into you so hard his head almost hit the bedposts behind it, “I _said_ I was gonna fuck it out of you.”  
  
“oh.  oh stars, babe.  really?”  Sans winced, but didn’t complain, as you started to fuck him harder.  “ _now_?”  
  
“Heheh!  Heh… Mmm.  No time like the present.” You braced yourself on the bed instead of his chest, and tucked your face between his cheek and shoulder, and you breathed deep, basking in the smells of pine, ketchup and sweat.  “I won’t let you cum until you tell me.”  
  
“that’s…  that’s just cruel.”  
  
“It’s what you signed up for.  Tell me…”  
  
“have a little mercy—”  
  
“ _Tell me_ , baby boy.”  
  
“oh, ­ _stars_!”  His hips bucked up against yours, and his legs wrapped around you and squeezed, so sudden and so hard you thought you might’ve made him cum by calling him that.  But you hadn’t.  
  
All you’d done was make him spill his dirty secret in the heat of the moment.  
  
“this is gonna sound super convenient, buh—hut…  ngh, god, i swear it’s the truth, i…  hngh—“ he squeezed his eye sockets shut and confessed, all at once, “i didn’t know what i was doin’, and i—a couple of times—you made me feel all…  i was just thinking about you, how cool you are, and it felt _different and i think i jerked off over you like ten times in the past two months—_ ”  
  
You were so shocked over that, it almost made you stop fucking him for a moment there.  You slowed, for certain.   And Sans noticed, desperate little skeleton hands trying to drag your hips back into the pace they’d just broken.  
  
“sorry.  that’s weird.  but you wanted the truth.”  
  
“…  Sans…”  
  
“don’t judge me.  just fuck me.  it’s your fault i said it—”  
  
“Sans, that is the _hottest—_ ” you punctuated your words with enthusiastic thrusts of your hips, “fucking.  Thing.  I have EVER.  HEARD.”  
  
And it was—that was no exaggeration.  You’d had no idea what you were expecting, but it wasn’t _that._ He’d just painted pretty pictures in your head of him fumbling with himself, so desperate and needy and sexually confused, and totally fixated on _you_ , before you’d even thought to ask if he wanted to do anything of that sort with you.  Not knowing anything of your body, and hardly knowing anything of his own, but trying, trying _so hard_ to find out, just to bring himself a little relief from the aching need in his body from thinking about you in a way he wasn’t used to thinking about people.  
  
So clueless.  God, so helpless.  So in need of you to show him how it’s done, to show him how to pleasure you and even how to pleasure _himself_.  
  
It ran in contrast to his personality.  Sans was such a strong, independent guy.  The last thing you would describe him as would be “needy.”  
  
And that fact made it so much hotter to you that he needed you so desperately when it came to sex.    
  
You were fucking him like an absolute animal at this point, but he was still begging you, over and over again, to fuck him even harder, begging until his voice went raspy.  You were pressed so close together now, you couldn’t move without feeling his ribs digging into your chest, his legs pulling at your hips in the same rhythm you were setting, his arms, thrown so passionately over your shoulders, holding you tighter.  
  
It wasn’t just his arms and legs holding you down closer to him, though.  As his magic became more excited, so excited that even his rapid breathing couldn’t alleviate it and it left his bones pleasantly warm to the touch, and extended itself further, and perhaps as he became bold enough to give it a try, you felt a distinct tug, as if on something deep in your chest.  
  
Sans was using his magic to pull you down by your soul.  To drive you closer to him.  To plunge his length impossibly deep into you for its short length.  To get you to fuck him as hard as he wanted, as hard as he _needed_.  
  
As he did, his magic surrounded you like a shroud of water.  For a moment, you forgot you could still breathe.  Everything was tinged with blue.  _His_ blue.  He wasn’t just under you and inside you—he was all around you, too.  You could _feel_ him there, in an intense, instinctual, deep-inside, spiritual way you could’ve never even imagined, and even now, as it was happening to you, couldn’t even begin to describe in words.  
  
And in his little world of blue, you felt three little words.  
  
_i love you.  
  
_ You didn’t hear them.  Somehow, you _felt_ them, even though those words weren’t your own.  Over and over and over again, you felt him say it.  
  
_i love you, i love you, i love you.  oh, stars, i didn’t think i could love this much.  i can’t get enough.  i love you…  
  
_ “…  Say it out loud.”  
  
“h…  huh…?”  Sans was so breathless, he could hardly get the simple noise of confusion out.  
  
“What you’re thinking right now.  Say it out loud.  I wanna hear it.”  
  
“i…  i.  shit.”  He let go of you to press his hands over his face, even as you continued fucking him like there was no tomorrow.  He said it, though, in a voice like someone had told him to speak at quintuple piano.  “i think i love you.”  
  
“You _think_.”  
  
“i love you.”  
  
“ _Louder_ , baby boy.”  
  
“oh.  fff _fffuh-huck_.  i love it when you call me that.  i love you.”  He’d said it at about his normal speaking tone that time.  
  
But that wasn’t enough for you.  You could feel your soul now, and it was burning with need for you to hear those words again, endlessly.  
  
“Louder.  Like you mean it and you want everybody to know.  Show me you mean it.”  
  
Sans was left whining so desperately, you thought he might actually start crying.  Especially when he threw his arms around you, revealing his face to you, and you saw his intense, helplessly blissed out expression.  He was on cloud-fucking-nine, in a whole ‘nother plane of _existence_ right now.  
  
He did what you wanted, cried it louder than you’d ever heard his voice go in all the time you’d known him.  He fucking _screamed_ that he loved you.  Three times in a row.  
  
Then he cried out your name, long and passionate and drawn out.  
  
You’d kind of forgotten somehow at this point that the endpoint of having sex is, in fact, cumming.  At least, you’d forgotten it until you felt the hot, wet sensation of your best friend shooting spurt after spurt of his cum inside you.  
  
No wonder he suddenly got so loud!  
  
It was downright impressive.  He started cumming and didn’t seem like he was going to stop, at least not within the timeframe your own orgasms usually lasted.  His arms, his legs, his magic, all of them pulled you down on to him heavy as an anchor, and his voice was so loud in your ear crying your praises you could hardly hear your own thoughts.  It was the only time that night that he ended up doing most of the work, holding you down and bucking his hips wildly up against yours.  His cock was plunged into you all the way down to its base the entire time, and as tight of a fit as it had been in the first place, his cum still managed to overfill you and flow back down, in thick, creamy-blue trails, on to his bones and the bedsheets underneath them.  
  
But then, all at once, it all faded out.  His arms and legs loosened and fell back on the bed, totally exhausted.  His magic let go of you, dissipated from around you, and retreated from the conduit it had formed between his legs back to its center in his chest, leaving you tragically empty.  His pupils dimmed, and—having spent the whole time in the shapes of hearts, you realized with quiet pride—shrunk over the time course of a few blinks of his eyes back into their usual circle shape, though they looked more hazy than usual now, like someone had taken a blur tool to them.  
  
He looked so happy.  
  
…  Now he looked concerned.  
  
Now he looked sad.  
  
You didn’t even think about the extremely obvious fact, too wrapped up in how well and how thoroughly you fucked him and how proud you were of that, until he said it.  
  
“…  shit.  dude.  i’m sorry.  you didn’t finish.”  
  
You _legitimately_ didn’t notice until he pointed it out.  That struck you as so hilarious, you just had to laugh.  
  
“Oh.  My god.  Sans, it’s okay…”  
  
“no it’s not.  that’s not fair to you.”  
  
“I’m fine!  That was amazing.  Sex isn’t…  _all_ about, you know, cumming, it’s a whole lot of—”  
  
“ahhh, don’t feed me those lines.  i know i suck.”  
  
“It was good!  Look me in the eyes and read my face like you always do.”  You smiled down at him, so genuinely he couldn’t possibly deny what you were saying.  “That felt amazing for me.”  
  
He looked up at you, carefully and thoroughly took in the expression on your face.  Let out a sigh of defeat.  “yeah.  you’re telling the truth.  you’re too sweet to me.”  He paused thoughtfully.  “…  hey.  can i try something?”  
  
“You just ejaculated in me.  I don’t think we’ve got any limits between us anymore, little buddy.  Go for it.”  
  
“kay.  so.  can you stay on top of me, but… like… flip over?  so you’re on your back, but, like…”  
  
You worked together to get into the right position.  You didn’t know why he had so much trouble describing it, other than what was probably the case: nerves.  He stayed on his back, and you laid out on your back on top of him, staring up at the ceiling.  As soon as you were in the right spot, he hugged you there, hands resting over your stomach.  You hummed in contentment.  
  
“This is nice,” you told him.  
  
“yeah,” he confirmed softly.  
  
And then his left hand roamed down, snaked between your legs, and found your clit surprisingly quickly.  
  
“Ooh…!”  You put your hand over his, suddenly realizing just how close your body was to what his had just gone through.  It hurt a little, though, so you moved his hand back just a smidge.  “You want to rub the part that’s under the hood, honey.  The exposed part is a bit too sensitive to have fun with.”  
  
“sorry.”  
  
“My fault, didn’t mention it earlier.  Mmm…”  God, now he was rubbing you right.  He was rubbing you _really_ right.  “God, Sans…  You really don’t have to.  I know you’re tired.”  
  
“yeah, but i’m gonna.”  
  
And he sure as shit _did_.  Once you got him to rub the right part of your clit, he was able to figure out the rest.  Maybe he did it by measuring your reactions to what he did, and doing more of what you reacted most positively too, in a sort of algorithmic process.  Maybe he already had a good idea of the speed and intensity you liked from having fucked you only minutes ago. _  
  
_ This part was quieter than your lovemaking (lovemaking?!), with only one of you being actively stimulated, and it being the one of you who was a bit less naturally vocal about their pleasure.  Still, the room was soon filled with your breaths and the soft noises of your ecstasy.  
  
Your head swam with thoughts of what you’d just done with Sans.  With every little detail of it, but especially the part where he came like an absolute wild animal underneath you.  
  
“Sans, I’m…  I’m _close_ ,” you whispered to your lover (lover?!) as his hand worked so smoothly and so tirelessly at getting you off.  “Really fuckin’ close.”  
  
“i can tell.”  You couldn’t tell if he was trying to tease you or just making an observation, but either way, he rubbed you harder, drove you closer.  
  
You felt that first wave of pleasure, and knew it was coming.  
  
“S-Sans, I’m about to--!”  
  
“cum for me, sweetheart.”  
  
If the physical stimulation didn’t throw you completely over the edge on its own, the sound of him calling you his sweetheart sure did.  You climaxed so powerfully you felt like you had to squeeze your eyes shut, and good fucking lord, it felt so much better than you could ever remember it feeling before, even though he was touching you in exactly the same way you were perfectly capable of touching yourself.  It ripped a noise from your throat that you would never normally make—a noise, and a name.  
  
“ _Saaaans_ ~!”  
  
You weren’t usually one for crying out your partner’s name during orgasm, but this time, you couldn’t help it.  It was the only word on your mind, the only word you could think of in that moment of sinful and heavenly bliss, and besides, he’d asked so nicely for you to cum _for him_.  If that wasn’t for him, you didn’t know what was.  
  
As the ecstasy faded out, his voice faded back in, soft and breathy and gentle by your ear.  
  
“there you go.  there you go…”  
  
At last, you were both spent.  You turned over on to your stomach so that you were facing him, but he didn’t move at all except to put his arms around you.  
  
The latest on the list of things that surprised you that night was how strong Sans’ arms were when he held you like this.  They locked around you, and you were pretty sure you couldn’t get up even if you wanted to.  Which you didn’t.  Not at all.  
  
It was kind of cool to feel the heat from his previously overexcited magic slowly fade from his bones as he relaxed and leave him comfortably cool underneath you, if still pretty damn sweaty.  
  
“So…” you mumbled, managing to find a comfortable position despite the bag of bones currently splayed out under you, “you’re staying the night, huh?”  
  
You got nothing but a long, loud snore in response.  Earth-shatteringly loud.  
  
Well, you were flattered.  You’d noticed over the course of your friendship and many a sleepover with him that he tended to snore more loudly the happier and more comfortable he was.  
  
“I’ll take that as a yes.”  
  
You were tuckered out like never before, just as he was.  But even so, it took you awhile to go to sleep.  
  
Because there was one thing you’d made note of besides the fact that he hadn’t gotten you off during sex that you hadn’t talked about.  Something you knew that _he’d_ made note of, too.  
  
_i love you.  
  
_ Was that really true?  
  
It had to be.  His soul itself had told you, and that was the absolute core of his being.  
  
From the deepest depths of his being, he loved you.  
  
You wrapped yourself in that thought like a blanket and went to sleep, unable to muster the energy to even begin to ask yourself if the reason that felt so good to think about was just because it boosted your ego or if it was because you truly felt the same way.


	3. Sans Isn't Good At Talking (But He'll Do It For You)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to cram SOMETHING in before my classes start up again and this was my first choice!! Top priority! I'm so glad I got it finished while I was still on break and I hope you all enjoy! c:

For you, getting up in the morning often felt like slowly sweeping up and piecing back together fragments of feelings and memories that your unconscious mind had allowed to drift away like dust.  Usually, there wasn’t much to piece together.  All too often, you went to bed in the same clothes you’d spent the day in, just to change into a different set of clothes in the morning and let the cycle begin again.  
  
Not this time.  
  
You didn’t wake up thinking _hey, I just fucked my best friend and it turns out it was amazing_!  But you woke up feeling like you’d been asleep for two months, to the fabric of your blanket directly against your bare skin, and a slight excess of fluids between your legs, and the vague feeling like somebody was _supposed_ to be next to you, but wasn’t.  It all clicked into place pretty quickly after that.  
  
Huh.  Sans wasn’t there.  That stung a little.  
  
And when you checked your phone, you saw that he hadn’t even sent you any of the silly texts he always did after you did anything together.  Not even any of the ridiculous sex puns you’d been expecting the entire time.  Huh.  That stung a little more.  
  
You groaned and rested your head back on your pillow after visually confirming that Sans was neither next to you on the bed, nor anywhere else in your room.  How could you blame him?  You arranged for a night of sex because you were curious about each other.  That was all.  He had every reason to go home in the morning.  Most people do, and those people usually don’t even accidentally telepathically communicate that they’re in love with the person they’re laying.  
  
You felt… guilty, somehow, even though you’d had no idea that Sans ever had deeper feelings for you than friendship.  Like you’d somehow been responsible for making him say that when he wasn’t ready.  He must be so embarrassed—it seemed hot in the moment, to _you_ , but looking back on it, and thinking about the kind of man Sans was…  you realized those probably weren’t the circumstances under which he would’ve preferred to finally tell you.  
  
You didn’t know what _were_ the circumstances he would’ve preferred.  He wasn’t one for big, touching gestures, either.  An evening at Grillby’s, just like any other, but suddenly super serious?  A night of stargazing and nerding out that got unexpectedly touchy-feely?  You weren’t sure, probably something like that, something small and comfortable and ordinary that could become so much more from the memory of what was said and what was done.  All you knew was that he probably didn’t hope and dream for it to come out while having hot monkey sex with you in an encounter whose platonic nature you were very emphatic about.  
  
You were already lamenting how painful the next few days, which you were inevitably going to spend intensely trying to figure out what to say to Sans while he avoided you like the plague, were going to be.  You could see it now—he was going to ghost you.  That was how Sans dealt with his problems, he either literally or figuratively shortcut-ed away from them at light speed, and what he told you just became his latest.  You felt awful—you’d never given Sans any reason to ghost you like that before.  Then you felt even worse, because it dawned on you that your cat, who pretty much always curled up in the blanket-shrouded crook of your legs as you slept, wasn’t even there to keep you company.  
  
Oh, god, you were such an asshole even your cat abandoned you.  A cat, the most tsundere of animals, was disgusted with your lack of consideration for Sans’ feelings.  Truly, you were the scum of the earth.  
  
Well, lying in bed wasn’t going to make the dreaded and inevitable fallout go away, and even scum must rise.  So you threw aside your blanket, got up, flipped on the light, left your bed messy and rooted around in your dresser for something comfortable enough for a Sunday spent at home having an anxiety attack over your cool friend who was apparently in love with you now.  Ah, yes.  A hoodie, granny panties, sweatpants, and a pair of slippers would do nicely.  
  
Allegedly dressed for the day now, you plucked the rose Sans had given you from the nightstand (what? You’d promised yourself you would put it in a vase!) and turned to make your way out of the room.  But on your way over, you saw something that your mind only finished processing once your hand was already on the doorknob, and it made you do a double-take.  
  
Sans’ clothes were still on the floor, alongside yours.  Did he seriously just sit up in bed and teleport his naked skeleton ass back to his own room?  
  
…  You know what?  Yeah.  That definitely sounded like something Sans would do.  
  
You were halfway down the hall, contemplating everything at once when you heard…  singing?  You wanted to call it music.  You couldn’t hear any instrumental, maybe it was just guitar or piano turned down too low for your ears to pick up, but the voice was the likeness of Elvis Presley, or Nat King Cole, or Avi Kaplan.  Not recognizable as any of those people, but undeniably similar.  
  
_Hold me close and hold me fast  
This magic spell you cast  
This is La Vie En Rose  
  
When you kiss me, heaven sighs  
And though I close my eyes  
I see La Vie En Rose…  
  
_ Ah, curse you and your slippers!  If only you’d approached barefoot instead, Sans might not have heard you as you approached the kitchen, and that _heavenly_ singing wouldn’t have faltered on _When you press me to_ … and fallen into sheepish silence.  
  
Your world had been flipped upside-down when you woke up and thought he’d left.  Now, seeing him standing there at the stove, wearing _your stuff_ , a hoodie and sweatpants combo so hilariously similar to what you’d picked out you couldn’t help but crack a smile, spatula in hand, the cat you also thought had abandoned you winding affectionately around his legs in a figure eight pattern, standing awkwardly frozen in place like you’d caught him doing something he shouldn’t—probably singing…  everything flipped right-side-up again.  
  
“…  ’morning,” he greeted you casually, as if it were an everyday occurrence for you to wake up and find him in your kitchen fixing up breakfast for you.  
  
Well shit.  This beat the whole ghosting thing you’d been anticipating!  You couldn’t help the smile growing on your face and becoming no doubt downright dopey.  
  
“Good morning, Sans!”  You could tell he was trying to act casual, like you hadn’t just caught him singing, but you couldn’t help but compliment him.  “Hey, you have an amazing singing voice.  I thought somebody was playing their radio really loud or something.”  
  
You rubbed your eyes sleepily, and when they were opened and adjusted again, Sans’ cheeks were a little bluer.  
  
“kay.”  
  
That was his default response whenever he didn’t know how to respond to something.  Apparently, that included unexpected, and possibly slightly embarrassing, flattery.  You decided to drop the subject, though you secretly locked away the memory of his perfect, saccharine voice for later consideration…  
  
“Nice new threads.  Very stylish.  Where’d you get them?”  You smirked, arms crossed, eyes panning up and down his small form as you teased him.  He visibly relaxed—he was much more used to you joking around with him than he was to you giving him compliments.  
  
“oh, these?  victoria’s secret for sure.”  
  
You snorted.  
  
“or maybe it was the thrift store.”  
  
“Heheheh!  Sans, are you insulting my wares?”  
  
“what’re you talking about?  clearly these are mine.  they’re for my cosplay.”  He looked you up and down in return, and despite everything, you still blushed a little when he did that.  “my _you_ cosplay.  pretty spot-on, huh?”  
  
He had you there.  He’d totally called what you were going to wear before you even put it on.  You were twinsies right now.  
  
Your gaze flicked downwards as a thought suddenly occurred to you.  You didn’t know how to ask.  
  
“…  Uh, Sans?”  
  
“yeah babe?”  
  
You could see he was still taking you up on your offer to let him call you that.  You tried not to let it distract you.  
  
“…  _How_ accurate is the cosplay?”  
  
“do you need me to get a mirror so you can compare better?”  
  
“No, I mean, did you…  when you were picking stuff out.”  Your eyes flicked downwards again, giving him a hint.  “ _Did_ you do a bit of shopping at Victoria’s Secret?”  
  
He looked like he was holding back a laugh.  
  
“nah.  spirit halloween.”  He nudged you with his elbow.  “i took the ones with the skeleton hands on the ass.”  
  
Your eyebrows shot up.  “S-Sans!” you sputtered.  “Those are… those are _dirty_!”  You said that like it was the most offensive thing in the world.  Like a man who sometimes gladly wore the same clothes for four or five days straight would take offense to panties that had been worn for less than an hour before they came off again.  
  
Luckily, he came through to assuage your mortification, chuckling and waving his hand in a gesture of dismissal.  
  
“ahhh, i’m just kiddin’.  i’m a skeleton, i go commando 99% of the time.”  Now that you thought about it, he hadn’t worn anything under his shorts last night, either.  You guessed you were just too swept up in the heat of the moment to notice.  “i left your panties alone.  though the one with the burgers on it was awesome.”  
  
“So you looked.”  Trying your best to throw him off as much as he was throwing you off, you nudged him with your hip and accused him, “Perv.”  
  
“i was looking for the other stuff and happened to stumble upon them.  i dunno where you keep your shit, _burgerpants_.”  
  
You giggled at that.  
  
“You fucked Burgerpants.”  
  
“…”  
  
You both burst out laughing at the same time, disproportionate to how funny the joke actually was.  It was like a release of tension.  The first acknowledgement of the elephant in the room—that you and Sans totally had sex with each other—and it was a casual, shitty joke.  
  
It was perfect.  No matter what happened now, no matter the specifics of what you were to each other, you at least felt certain that you and Sans were going to be okay.  Both of you.  Together.  The relationship between you—whatever that relationship was.  It was all going to be okay.  
  
Sans looked up with you with that warm, pretty smile of his, like absolute sunshine.  
  
“hope you’re not gonna try to give that back to me.”  
  
You only just realized you’d been awkwardly futzing with the rose in your hands this entire time.  
  
“ain’t no returns on this, i don’t think.  what has been deflowered cannot be reflowered.  ‘slike trying to unscramble scrambled eggs.”  
  
Now that you’d broached the subject, he seemed more and more comfortable joking about the situation, just as you had.  
  
“Don’t be silly.”  You ran your hand over his skull as you passed him, as if to ruffle hair he didn’t have.  “I’m putting it in a vase.”  
  
He didn’t say anything, but somehow you felt like he really appreciated that.  
  
You each went about your own task, you finding a long-forgotten vase in the cupboard and filling it up with tap water, him breathing a sigh of relief as he flipped the pancakes and found that he hadn’t burned them while distracted by your presence.  
  
The two of you going about what you were doing in the warm morning light, brushing past each other every now and then with a quiet mumble of acknowledgement, existing together in that small, comfortable space you called home…  It was almost like he lived there, too.  It was…  _nice_.  
  
You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so at peace.  
  
It didn’t take long to put the rose in the vase.  You were, of course, done with it long before he was done cooking breakfast.  
  
So you leaned backwards on the counter next to the stove, arms crossed over your chest, and decided to try your luck broaching a different subject.  A much heavier one.  One that was going to be a huge factor in both of your futures.  
  
“…  Sans.  You know we can’t just pretend like you didn’t say it, right?”  
  
Because if you, you dared to hypothesize, entered into a _relationship_ with Sans because of this, you already knew it was going to be a serious one.  
  
Unfortunately, if there was anything Sans was good at, it was being evasive, usually through humor, but through other means, too.  Like picking up a strawberry off the plate he’d arranged them on and shoving it in your mouth.  
  
“oh, man, where did you _get_ these?  i gotta tell paps to go there for produce from now on.  these are _really_ good strawberries.”  
  
You rolled your eyes and consumed it down to the stem in one bite, swallowing quickly.  It _was_ a good strawberry, but you and Papyrus shopped at the same grocery store—and none of that was the point!  
  
“Hey, listen to me.  You can’t unscramble scrambled eggs, right?  Well you also can’t…  _unconfess_ a confession.”  
  
Desperate, he held up another strawberry at you.  He was trying to look calm and failing miserably.  He always started sweating when he was nervous, and he was sweating bullets right now.  
  
“… have you tried ‘em?” he practically squeaked.  After a long moment of silence to signify your disapproval, you simply plucked it from his hand and set it matter-of-factly back down on the plate it came from, never breaking eye contact, even as he refused to make it.  
  
“Sans.  I’m not mad at you.  Or disappointed.  Or weirded out.  Or anything like that,” you promised.  “I just wanna talk about it.  Sort it all out.  Don’t you think that’s better than letting it sit for days on end?  Each of us not _knowing_ what the other is thinking?  We’ve always been honest with each other.  Right now would be the worst time for us to stop.”  
  
Sans paused for a moment, as he always did before getting serious.  Silently, he turned off the stove, which let out a _click_ that reminded you how painfully silent the room had become.  
  
“look, i didn’t mean to say it like that.  or think it, or—whatever the hell happened.”  
  
Your heart dropped a little, his words sowing little doubts in your mind.  
  
“…  But did you mean it?”  
  
“…  yes.”  You’d never heard his voice so soft.  So downright _vulnerable_.  You were getting there, slowly.  You allowed him to continue unprompted, even as it took him a long, tense moment to gather the words.  “yeah, of course i meant it.  i would never lie to you.  and my soul—it _can’t_ lie to you.  it’s just me, with no filters at all, for better or for worse.”    
  
He paused, then continued again.  
  
“i guess i just…  planned on never telling you at all, and then you came to me ‘bout…  doing what we did, and i thought that was the closest to you i was ever gonna get to be, and i thought i could control that stupid soul of mine for just one night.  but while we were, uh…  eheh…  _doin’_ it,” he glanced around nervously, “i dunno, i just…  wasn’t prepared for how much i was feeling.  i’ve l…”  His eyes fixed on you for a moment, and he trailed off, as if seeking confirmation that it was okay to say what he was about to say.  
  
“Go on.”  You smiled at him encouragingly, hoping it’d be enough, even as you held your own cards close to your chest—you were still trying to figure them out, and didn’t want to say anything you’d come to regret.  
  
“…  i’ve loved you for a long time.  longer than i’ve been aware of it.  but it was always a calm kinda love before.  y’know what i mean?  it was…”  he shut his eyes in thought.  “it was early-morning texts, and laughing at each other’s jokes, and wanting to touch your face or your hair every time you rested your head on me, and feeling like i had a friggin’ hand-warming packet in my chest every time i saw the way you treat paps—just.  feelin’ like every time i’m with you, i’m stretched out in a patch of sunshine.  i don’t…  feel like i’m doin’ a very good job describing it,” he noted nervously, opening his eyes again to look at you and rubbing his neck as he did.  
  
“You’re doing great, Sans.”  You reached out to him and held his hands.  His palms were sweating, of course.  But you felt him relax a little when you touched him.  
  
“i mean, even when i, uh…”  He twisted one slippered foot on the floor, in a motion like he was extinguishing a cigarette butt, “…  did that…  thing you ended up making me tell you ‘bout.”  
  
Oh.  
  
_Oh.  
  
_ Honestly, Sans rubbing however-many out while thinking about you was still the most erotic fucking image that had ever graced your mind.  
  
“even _then_.  it was slow, and warm, and sweet.  the emotions, i mean.  not the…”  
  
One corner of your lips tweaked up in a sort of smug half-smirk.  You formed your hand into a fist and made a suggestive gesture with it.  
  
“knock it off, i’m talkin’ about—!” he raised his arms a bit in exasperation, then dropped them back to his sides with a sigh.  “look, the point is.  that calm kinda love was always something i felt like i could keep deep down inside and never spill.  but last night?  it’s like all those feelings i crammed down inside just exploded.  i’d already been feeling stuff for you i never felt before— _lots_ of stuff.  but just when i thought i understood it, and had a handle on it, i felt _that_.  some kinda love that made me wanna tell you everything all at once, no matter how much it would suck when you inevitably rejected me.”  
  
Wait.  _Rejected_ him?  
  
“it was like this whole—” he gestured vaguely—“uncomfortable talk we were gonna have to have about it didn’t even matter.  all that mattered was how amazing you make me feel.”  
  
He thought—and was still thinking—you were going to reject him?  
  
“and y’know, it… still…  _kinda_ feels that way?  ish?  like i said, i didn’t _mean_ to tell you the way i did, but…  that doesn’t mean i regret it.”  
  
You were grappling with your feelings, sure, but…  the thought suddenly occurred to you that you hadn’t even considered rejecting him.  You already knew you liked him a lot.  You already knew you would _date_ him.  
  
“…  i’m…  sad that we can’t be together the way my soul wants us to be.  but it is what it is, y’know?  i’m glad to have nothing left to hide.  if i’m honest, it’s kinda nice just being in love with someone, even if they don’t feel the same way.”  
  
You were just…  still trying to process everything he was saying, and figure out if you _loved_ him, not as a friend, but the way he was so desperately trying to describe to you.  
  
You wished you could go back and replay his words like a tape.  The thing he said about _calm love_ really resonated with you, and reminded you of something you heard once, some cheesy thing that kind of pissed you off at the time, about how infatuation was the butterflies-in-your-stomach and can’t-get-your-mind-off-them phase, but love, _true_ love, was a more calm and settled state of being.  The butterflies in your stomach and your obsession with them were supposed to fade, it was natural—and in exchange, you were supposed to gain a sense of calm and security around them.  Like as long as you had them by your side, everything was going to turn out alright, somehow.  Because you had each other.  
  
Wasn’t that how you felt about Sans…?  
  
Your mind retraced its history in the new light that question shed on to everything.  Countless nights spent having dinner together, usually at Grillby’s.  Taking him as your plus-one to anything that ever necessitated a plus-one.  Gazing at him sometimes, realizing suddenly one day and forever onwards from then on that he was a really handsome guy.  Feeling like as long as he was there, everything just…  made _sense_.  And it wouldn’t anymore if he wasn’t there.  
  
That was it, wasn’t it?  That was the sunshine feeling.  
  
You never would’ve believed that you could fall in love and not realize it, but Sans, by his own admission, had done so himself, at least for awhile before it dawned on him, and now you were certain.  
  
You did, too.  
  
You loved Sans.  
  
You _loved_ him.  
  
Wild.  
  
“…  there, we talked about it, are ya happy?”  You tried not to take offense to Sans’ abrasive tone—to be fair, you hadn’t given him much to be happy about, especially as you remained silent after his heartfelt speech to you.  _He_ didn’t know what was going on inside your head.  “i’m honestly gonna go home and eat my feelings now, prolly be okay and ready to act like nothing ever happened in a week or so.”  
  
You didn’t waste a moment saying ‘wait,’ or ‘Sans,’ or ‘don’t go,’ didn’t embellish it with anything unnecessary such as ‘I think’ or ‘I’m pretty sure I,’ lest he teleport away before he heard the most important thing, which was:  
  
“I love you too.”  
  
He was still quiet for a moment.  
  
Then he was _on_ you.  Literally.  You honestly didn’t know if he sprung into your arms like a cat or just teleported into them, all you knew was that you ended up with a skeleton in your arms and you were gonna drop him unless you grabbed on fast, so you did.  With his arms tight around your neck, one of your arms supporting him under his femurs, and your other arm resting across his back for your hand to caress him, you both caught your balance quickly enough for it not to end in a clumsy disaster.  
  
“well don’t friggin’ race to say it or anything!  stars, babe, you gave me a soul attack and a half…”  
  
You laughed, relief flooding your chest, though you couldn’t even imagine how much more relieved than you he was.  
  
“I’m…  I’m sorry, Sans!  It’s just!  You don’t usually talk about your feelings like that!  I didn’t want to interrupt you, I thought it’d be good for you…”  
  
“i almost keeled over.  is that good for me?  is it good that i almost passed out?”  
  
“Probably not!  But now that you’ve confessed your love to someone you FOOLISHLY thought was going to reject you, I bet you feel brave enough to do ANYTHING!”  
  
You turned him in a little circle, beaming as you did and planning to set him back down on his feet once you’d turned a full 360 degrees, but then he laughed like you’d never heard him laugh before, kinda high-pitched and almost childish, and…  suddenly you didn’t want to put him down anymore.  You squeezed your arms around him a little tighter, and as you did, he accepted it by curling against you a little more and burying his face in your neck.  
  
“i can’t believe it.  it’s too good to be true.  to be clear—you _love_ me,” he reiterated.  “as in, you’re _in love_ with me.”  
  
You’d spent enough time contemplating your feelings for him earlier—you didn’t hesitate now.  
  
“How could I not be?  Yes, Sans.  I’m _in love_ with you.”  
  
“well i’ll be fucked.”  He was pressing his face to your neck so firmly you could feel his nasal ridge digging into your skin.  “never knew i was the luckiest guy on earth.”  
  
You were tempted to make a joke about him already having been fucked, and thoroughly so, the night before.  
  
But for the first time ever, it didn’t feel like the right time to make a shitty joke at him.  
  
Instead, you set him back down on his feet, and in that moment he untangled himself from you and took in a breath, either to say something or to just let it out in a content sigh, you leaned in and kissed him.  
  
You were glad you worked out how to best do that the night before.  Now you didn’t have to worry about _how the fuck do I kiss a skeleton_.  You just put your hands on his cheeks and kissed him, almost exactly like before, but different now, if only for the extra tenderness that came with the fact that you now both knew that you _loved_ each other.  You _had_ , in fact, already loved each other when you kissed the night before, but you didn’t _know_ it—and oh, the difference that made.  You’d already thought that kissing Sans was amazing.  Now it was absolutely _unrivaled.  
  
_ Especially when, after a moment of surprise at the fact that you kissed him, Sans shut his eyes, shuffled closer to you, and delicately rested his hands on the undersides of your upper arms.  Even then, he shifted again, pulled you closer, until you were right up against him and he was able to wrap his arms entirely around you.  
  
And then somebody kicked open your front door.  
  
Sans fell on his ass on the floor, which must’ve _really_ hurt his tailbone.  You grabbed a knife from your knife drawer.  
  
And then you realized that it was just Papyrus.  
  
“GOOOOOOD MORNING, LOVEBIRDS!  HOW WAS THE HOT DATE?!  DID YOU—NYEH-HEH-HEH…”  He lowered his voice and rubbed his hands together deviously, naming the activity quickly, as if he was being taboo just by suggesting such a thing!: “HOLDHANDS?”  
  
“…  Wellll…”  
  
_He had his head tilted slightly down from where he usually had it tilted to look up and talk to you, eye lights touching the tops of his eye sockets, looking kind of shy.  
  
You bit your lip, and held out your hand to him.  
  
He took it in his with neither an awkward nor a suave word and let you guide him along the long-familiar route to your bedroom._  
  
…  
  
_“You’re doing great, Sans.”  You reached out to him and held his hands.  His palms were sweating, of course.  But you felt him relax a little when you touched him.  
_  
“You know what?  Yes, Papyrus.  We held hands a lot!” you confirmed, chipper as could be.  “And I’m gonna hold his hand again, because he just fell over.”  You smiled down at Sans as you offered him your hand, and he gratefully accepted it, letting you lift him to his feet.  
  
“thanks, babe.”  
  
Ahhh.  That was _never_ going to get old.  Now that you thought about it—yes.  It _did_ feel like warm sunshine when he called you that.  
  
“SANS, YOU CLUMSY SLUT!”  
  
You and Sans both snorted.  
  
“I KNOW THEY SWEEP YOU OFF YOUR FEET, BUT TRY TO MAINTAIN SOME DIGNITY!”  
  
The two of you exchanged a knowing look.  Your lips were pursed, not just to resist the most shit-eating grin of your life, but also to stop yourself from blurting out that he thoroughly gave up all of his dignity to you last night.  Sans shook his head at you, in confirmation that you’d _better_ as hell not say it.  
  
“sorry, paps.  don’t worry, they still love me.”  
  
Papyrus gasped, loud and long.  Boy, were you lucky he burst in now and not a few minutes ago when you were still sorting out your feelings.  
  
“SO THE DATE WAS A SUCCESS!  YOU’RE!  FINALLY!  DATEMATES!”  
  
You hadn’t _specifically_ said that, but considering the confessions of love, the hugs and the kisses…  
  
Sans answered first, his voice returning to its usual calm, casual tone after a morning of being used to express _so_ many other feelings.  
  
“yep.  we’re finally datemates.”  
  
Yeah.  You figured as much.  
  
“I KNEW IT WAS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME!  OH, I JUST HAVE TO GO AND TELL UNDYNE AND ALPHYS!”  Papyrus backed towards the door bit by bit as he spoke.  “NOT THAT.  THEY’VE BEEN.  WRITING FANFICTION ABOUT YOU.  OR ANYTHING.  TOODLE-LOO!”  
  
You and Sans waited until you were sure Papyrus was gone again.  It was only after several seconds of waiting that you even realized that he was holding your hand.  
  
“…  we are though, right?  datemates,” Sans confirmed with you quietly.  “’cause if we’re not, i can always chase him down n’—”  
  
“Of course we’re datemates.  After all we’ve been through?”  You put your arm around him and pulled him to your side.  “We are the _datiest_ of mates.”  
  
His whole face lit up.  
  
“i knew you were the one for me.”  
  
He rested his skull on you.  You didn't know what to say now-- you just rubbed his shoulder.  Your  _boyfriend's_ shoulder.  That felt nice to say, even just in your mind...  
  
“…  so, um.  you wanna…?”  he glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes, a coy little smile on his face.  
  
You thought he was giving you bedroom eyes.  
  
“Damn.  Again, already?  You can’t get enough, can you?  Alright—but it’ll be even better this time.”  
  
But it turned out, he just wanted to abandon the pancakes he’d made and go to Grillby’s with you instead.  
  
Not a single patron nor bartender was spared that day from Sans’ endless bragging about the fact that he’d finally made you his datemate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Datemates" is just such a cute word. I love it so much.


End file.
